Changing of the Guard
by plaidshirtjimkirk
Summary: Kondo sets off for Hiroshima to attempt avoiding war, but the Hijikata he returns to is not the Hijikata he left only three weeks prior. Something drastic changed. And that's when Kondo realizes he needs to as well. [Established Kondo/Hijikata] Fandom: 新選組!/Shinsengumi!
1. Chapter 1

Thank you for checking this out! I've been writing this story on and off since January, and decided to finally post it. After watching the episode about Kawai's misfortune, all I wanted to do was have Kat-chan comfort Toshi because boy oh boy, does that man need it.

* * *

 **.*Changing of the Guard*.**

Shinai cracked the crisp January air with collective shouts—a direct contrast to the warmth and quiet which embraced the inner spaces of Nishi Honganji. Even winter's oppressive chill stood little defense against the smoldering of an irori hearth, as early afternoon sunlight permeated shoji and aroused a delicate glow upon the dark cedar wood construct.

It was within the comfort of those magnificent walls and arching rooftops where everything was proceeding as _uncomfortably_ as Kondo had expected: right to the inward pull of Hijikata's brows, the outward displeasure in his expression, even the very words he spoke.

"It's too dangerous." The shut down and dismissal were immediate. "It's not even a sensible plan."

Remaining collected and perhaps too calm in his approach of such a dire subject, Kondo gazed across the brief stretch of tatami dividing where he and Hijikata sat facing each other. His tongue poked out to wet his lips and he let his lashes fall before agreeing. "It _is_ dangerous. But these negotiations are necessary. Matsudaira-ko wants to avoid war at all costs."

"So why should _you_ have to go to Hiroshima," Hijikata pressed curtly, the reply bearing more semblance to an agitated statement than a question. "Think about it, who does Choshu hate most of all? Our presence would only be inflammatory. If Aizu insists on sending one of us, I'll go instead."

Kondo's head lolled slightly to the side as he drew in a deep breath. "Toshi—"

"Toshi nothing. The risk is unjustified. For all we know, this could be playing into some plot to assassinate you." With a brusque nod, Hijikata repeated, "I'll be the one to go. It's more important for you to stay back and oversee what's going on here."

Kondo's features softened further at the rebuke. This was the way things had always been between them, whether the situation was critical or not: the overprotective nature, the blatant selflessness, Hijikata's will to personally go to the ends of the earth instead of allowing Kondo a moment's worth of inconvenience—and further. There was the Hijikata Toshizo who was the Shinsengumi's Vice Commander and the Hijikata Toshizo who shared his commander's bed; right now, Kondo knew both were speaking from the same place if only because he, himself, was as well.

" _Toshi_ ," he urged in a whisper, reaching forth across the short distance to place his hand on a strong forearm. It was the point he'd been building to, that his consent to embark on this journey wasn't at the insistence of Matsudaira or anyone else. Kondo's fingers flexed inward, taking an unyielding grip and then offering a singular, distinct shake. "I'm the one who volunteered."

A pause followed, the intensity in the gaze they shared managing to augment even further, with each staring deeply to convey the candor of his emotions. At last, Kondo slid a little closer and when his voice shattered the tension, it was with determination and sincere will. "I want to do it for the Shogun and Matsudaira-ko."

The corners of Hijikata's mouth twitched as his contemplative silence persisted, clearly torn between the necessity of granting his blessing for political reasons and wanting to contend the same decision for mostly personal ones. He stared with the familiar all-encompassing ferocity he assumed whenever he was vexed, the inner turmoil written so openly on his face that for a moment, Kondo suspected there would be no consensus between them.

But as if he'd read his mind, that was exactly when Hijikata broke the quietude. "Then," he spoke, the fire in his eyes betraying the softening of his voice, "you're the one who's also coming back." A beat. "…Kondo-san."

It was a terse command boldly made to a commander, but the feeling with which it had been delivered enough to make Kondo's heart beat faster.

He exhaled when Hijikata relented, nodding once so vehemently that his shoulders dipped forward. "Yes," Kondo promised, breathy and ardent, as warmth flooded him.

A thick haze of precarious gray muddled the view of the impending weeks, making the likelihood of any given outcome no more or less clear in a situation that already guaranteed nothing. Still, Hijikata had sensed how important this was to him, and despite not being in agreement—despite how much he obviously was against it—had agreed anyway.

It was strength of its own class, one Kondo wasn't sure even he possessed; for though he would never admit it aloud, he couldn't say with complete certainty that he was unselfish enough to do the same in reverse.

 _Toshi…_

He withdrew his hand then, as the venue was semi-public, and his digits stroked downward until they traced along Hijikata's. There would be time later when they could find themselves alone and able to communicate with the language of touch. In the present, however, a different type of exchange conveyed what the lips failed to.

They persisted to hold each other's gazes for several moments once the contact broke, while the uniform clamor of their men training on the front grounds contrasted the cheerful melody of birdsong.

Those harsh lines of discontent which Hijikata wore barely abated, and just before he averted his eyes to some obscure point, a singular demand was delivered soft and forthright.

"Come back, Kat-chan."

They sat in silence after that for some time, each with his forearms resting upon his knees and fingers dangling idly over the tatami—almost threatening to reach out and entwine.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Standing beyond open shoji, Kondo's arms were crossed before his chest while he studied the delicate lines of bare branches sweeping downward. It was the garden's most treasured feature: a wispy tree which flowered fragrant blossom clusters in the spring.

He wondered if he would have the opportunity to appreciate the charms of their elegant scent in the coming weeks, or if he'd taken them for granted the previous year without knowing it'd been his last chance. More of the same, more of the same… More and more, these were the kinds of questions Kondo had been asking himself as of late.

The answer never changed, either; whatever the case and whatever the subject of inquiry, it was ultimately useless to dwell on matters out of his hands—like destiny. What would be, would be. Therefore, he abandoned the what-ifs and philosophical thought, and turned his mind back to the reason for his visit.

Oyuki's residence was rife with the same airy sunlight that filled the space Hijikata and he had spoken in earlier, but despite being surrounded by the peace of natural beauty, Kondo somehow found the view less compelling.

It was easier to speak under these circumstances though, knowing he wouldn't be opposed or have to feel the weight of guilt on his shoulders. The words might sting but they wouldn't mar; there would be no longing gaze afterward that implored the opposite of the lips, no compelling sight to make him rethink something already decided.

She was here to rest and heal, and every so often listen to his complaints. And Kondo—well, he'd always had a soft spot for those down on their luck, after being in that place himself for so long. Hijikata was often at his neck for such generosity, but it was hard to genuinely call oneself a man of the people without acknowledging or caring about what society was like for the majority.

But these were just more musings under stark tree branches, as profound as they were useless.

"To be honest…" Kondo spoke up and paused to drum his fingertips against one bicep. "I might not come back alive this time."

The sudden sound of muffled rustling, of movement, in the room behind him feathered into his ears.

"Isami-sama." Oyuki's voice was gentle and he turned, finding her in seiza. "Is it for a noble cause?"

Kondo's chin fell in a nod. Such formality was unbecoming of Hijikata, but he could almost imagine him there instead, and his words in place of her own.

' _Come back, Kat-chan._ '

She placed her hands on the floor and bowed her head. He felt his expression soften.

' _Come back, Ka—_ '

"Congratulations."

Kondo blinked. When their eyes met again after righting herself, Oyuki wore a tiny smile.

How different, this response. And though it was precisely what he had expected of _her_ , it still left Kondo feeling slightly, curiously, disappointed.

The corners of his lips eased up and he returned the sentiment. This afternoon's purpose had been to ensure that even if something happened to him, the Shinsengumi would continue the protection of those they called friends. But looking at Oyuki now, Kondo found little reason to state the obvious.

…How very different, indeed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

That night in a shallow sleep, he dreamed the stars which blanketed the sky in glitter looked foreign over Hiroshima.

Kondo's lashes parted suddenly to the caress of moonlight on his cheek, hinting through the outside doors and steeping the room in silver. Without blinking, he stared at the ceiling and swallowed. In the best case, this would be the last night for some time and in the worst…

His lips separated with a broken exhale and Kondo found himself drawn to the place beside him that was never empty. Letting his head fall to the right against the pillow roll, he suppressed a jolt when he found Hijikata's eyes open and on him.

They stared at each other for several moments.

"Kat-chan…" Hearing his name spoken softly enough to once again tug on his heart, Kondo's hand raised from where it lay at his hip and then fell between them facing up; it was an invitation which Hijikata immediately accepted. He ran his calloused fingers along the equally rough palm before allowing them to thread between Kondo's, and then took a tight hold as he whispered, "Go to sleep."

Kondo's grasp strengthened to match Hijikata's and he turned on his side, leaving the pillow entirely in favor of the futon. He pushed their entwined hands against his forehead and closed his eyes, pressing harder and then harder yet.

His subsequent murmur reflected the tenderness. "You too."

Hijikata's chin dipped and his lashes fell for a moment, before he shadowed Kondo's movements and ended up in mirror configuration. Lying on his left, he also brought his forehead against their hands and closed his eyes again.

The tradeoff for big thoughts was little rest, and by the cracking of dawn at the horizon, both the commander and vice commander already felt the haze of fatigue.

In silence, Kondo ran a comb through Hijikata's hair and carefully pulled it back for binding. He took his time and reveled in the task, appreciating the sensation of silk feathering loosely about the leathered skin of his fingers. There was no denying Hijikata had been endowed with multiple facets of effortless beauty, but his hair in particular always captivated Kondo's fascination—the texture and scent, how it moved and caught the sunlight.

Or perhaps that was just his heart talking as it always did…as it spoke even now and begged him not to let go. Alas, the tie had been secured and the ponytail fell free from his doting hand with a glossy swish.

The quietude remained when Hijikata took over—as he stood behind Kondo, reached around his waist, and tied the straps of his hakama tightly. His arms lingered for longer than necessary, with nimble digits pulling at the knot he'd just made, and yet again for good measure. After helping him dress the rest of the way from there, Hijikata adjusted the final embellishments of Kondo's formal attire and finally looked up to meet his eyes.

"I'll be off," Kondo gently bade, the intensity in his gaze speaking more than his voice.

Hijikata's lips pursed and he shook his head. "Don't tell me goodbye."

"I won't bid you farewell."

"Kat-chan…"

Hijikata released the hemmed edges of the haori and braced his palms against Kondo's chest, leaning in and letting their lips meet. The kiss was soft, sensual and filled with everything left unspoken, as Kondo's hands covered the smaller ones pressed to him.

Too soon, they broke apart millimeter by millimeter—reveling in every moment of the final remnants of this closeness so precious.

"Take care of everything while I'm gone, Toshi," Kondo said with a tiny smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Especially yourself."

Hijikata merely nodded.

And then, it was time to leave.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 _Three Weeks Later_

Misery enjoyed company, and unfavorable events often occurred in the fashion of multiples.

On the evening of Kondo's return from Hiroshima, candlelight filled the great room with soft gold and cast false impressions of warmth on a cheerless lot. His own mission had ended in disastrous failure where Aizu politics were concerned, but the jaded expressions of the cabinet who'd remained in Kyoto indicated the time spent apart had been no easier on them.

Typical council arrangement was assumed, with Kondo centered in seiza before two short rows of top ranks facing each other. An awkward reticence persisted among them, the space filled with periodic forced sniffling and throat-clearing, while worn fingers worried at hakama prior to smoothing the material back out.

Such ambiance was foreign for a gathering of outspoken individuals who sometimes, certainly, spoke too much (and too loosely); however, since Inoue had earlier relayed the news of the recent seppuku, it was a silence which felt less oppressive and more appropriate. For a fleeting moment even, the gentle dance of flame and wick had been the only movement in the room, something which also was as fitting as it was uncharacteristic.

At last, the soft exhale that escaped Kondo's lips broke the monotony, with shoulders sinking in kind while his eyes searched the short expanse of tatami separating the men. "Kawai." The name rode out beneath his breath and his gaze lifted to the immediate left, only to find Hijikata still staring at an insignificant point on the floor.

When harakiri was ordered during his last prolonged absence, Kondo's rarely roused wrath detonated on hearing of it and incited a furious tirade that had Hijikata shoved hard enough to hit the floor. If he were an identical man in younger shoes with the luxury of discretion, the same reaction might have stirred inside him now, for the loss of Kawai as resident accountant was more than simply lamentable. It was a _waste_ —of life, of needed talent, of friendship.

But the times had moved past pardons and flexibility as the years began to take and take and take, and once they took Yamanami, the only justification Kondo could find was upholding the rigid code which forced such a hand. No matter how strict, no matter how much the imposition hurt, the rules were the rules and violating them had clearly defined consequences. If elective leniency couldn't save an irreplaceable vice commander, a beloved _friend_ , it was out of the question to grant anyone else that compassion.

Thus, Yamanami's final day sparked a wave of transformation, as if his death had challenged everyone to be and do better. And since that time, this humble group of born and bred farmers had expanded and adapted and achieved greater notoriety: all as pleasing things as they were predictable, for change itself was nothing if not inevitable over time. However, from the place he sat now, Kondo observed a stark difference in the Hijikata he'd left the day of his departure and the one he returned to tonight after just three weeks.

He studied the expressionless facade, the dark circles presumed from lack of sleep or too much stress—or both. And only after remaining under this scrutiny for several passing seconds had Hijikata's attention slowly raised, his eyes without shine when they found Kondo's. Then, he dipped his chin once.

Kondo swallowed and set his lips in a line. "I'll pay my respects tomorrow."

The meeting wore on from there, mirroring the tension and fatigue of each man in attendance, but even then nothing was as dull as the void between Hijikata's lashes.

And Kondo was the only one who knew better.


	2. Chapter 2

They walked the length of the barracks beneath a dark sky flecked in diamond shimmer, the air remaining stale and heavy with silence.

Hijikata led the way. While he was a man of common stature, the cadence of his heavy steps and slight forward tilt of his shoulders radiated an ominous aura, even when he had no menacing intentions. The front was an ever-enduring protective attribute, as important for Hijikata to don each morning as his actual clothing. Just like those garments, though, Kondo knew exactly what lay beneath.

The short trip to the housing wing served as an unnecessary reminder that he was the only one privileged enough who could make that claim. Lagging behind several steps, Kondo observed as lower ranking members cleared a path before them in a long stretch of porch. They dodged and stepped aside, some pivoting partway on their heels before turning back and bowing. One reached for a nearby broom in attempt to appear preoccupied, regardless of being off duty.

Apparently, anything was more desirable than contact with the individual they'd come to tremble at.

To those comprising the bottom layers of company hierarchy, Hijikata symbolized unwavering strictness and merciless discipline—a so-called demon vice commander who brought death and suffering to both friend and foe, who had no concern about how others perceived him.

In their eyes, he was the man whose laws had ultimately been the undoing of well-loved individuals like Yamanami and Kawai, and for reasons that seemed senseless without knowing the bigger picture. His tongue was as sharp with the truth as it was blunt, his resolve adamant and his purpose seldom clear to the many he didn't personally confide in.

But this man Kondo trailed was so much more than the infamy he'd managed to earn himself…more than his formal title, more than what the whispers echoed in these walls, more than anyone gave him credit for.

To Kondo, he was Toshi: neither a demon nor the bringer of misery, but a human who bled and grieved and needed and hurt and was doing the best he could just like everyone else.

Even when he wouldn't admit it.

 _Especially_ when he wouldn't admit it.

Though Hijikata's motivations had always been grounded in what was best for the Shinsengumi, his reputation made him largely unreadable and unapproachable—unlikable, even. Tension with Shieikan comrades who'd once been like brothers, Nagakura most notably, left him somewhat alienated. So while Kondo happened to very much enjoy his company and the way it felt to have him near, Hijikata was left to fend for himself when the needs of the country pulled them physically apart.

Unlike the others with established social circles, there was no surplus of support to turn to when hardship crashed on dandara shores, and no arms that would lovingly catch him when he stumbled. Of them all, Inoue was the exception: the one other who saw past those staggering walls of defense Hijikata built. In Kondo's absence, Gen-san could be the rational voice, sympathetic ear, or weathered guide, but he was also a father-like figure and there was only so far his comfort could reach.

Perhaps that was what Hijikata wanted, however. He never asked for help, never approached anyone for favors, never wanted to owe anything to someone else. Understanding his subtleties and discerning if he was in need of anything were akin to constantly deciphering subtext—something which, fortunately for them both, Kondo had become quite proficient at.

So, Hijikata could stalk about with his cold exterior, lecturing, intimidating, criticizing, reprimanding, and scaring everyone off. He could say things like, " _I don't care what anyone thinks of me_ " or, " _It makes no difference what they say_." When everything was said and done, all Kondo needed was one look into his eyes to know the real story. What they told him tonight was likely more than Hijikata would have preferred to disclose.

He was hurting.

And because Kondo's heart beat in time to the same metronome, he hurt just as much. There was more to it, of course; he deeply regretted the loss of Kawai and the subsequent impact that rifled through the ranks like a shockwave. Still, nothing was quite as difficult to swallow as watching Hijikata acting like he hadn't been affected when he most certainly was.

His strength was staggering—with the blade, in spirit, emotionally. Sometimes, it was _so_ staggering that Hijikata closed himself off from feeling the things that would remind him he was, in the end, human after all. Sometimes, he forgot that it was okay to be the one needing support instead of constantly giving it and that love was, in its purest form, a two-way street.

During those times, it was Kondo's obligation to remind him of the beauty of his humanity, and this night would be no exception; he would adore him, would become the sheath for the sword that protected him. And like this, they could both find solace.

The idle background noise of the common areas dissolved as their footsteps carried them through the corridors, decidedly human sounds traded for the trickling of water in the garden when their domicile location came into view.

Upon moving to Nishi Honganji, the pair had once again selected adjacent rooms; while it made good operational sense for commander and vice commander to reside in nearby quarters, there was a specific appeal to these that influenced their decision: the presence of interior doors.

From the outside, these living arrangements appeared separate, but the convenience of inner shoji allowed them to convert two into one…which could be quickly divided into individuals again to save face should the need ever arise.

While a cool breeze sighed through stark plant life encircling the small pond, Hijikata approached the nearest entrance—Kondo's—and jostled the shoji aside. Without looking back, he pressed his palm against the exposed narrow edge, the worn appearance of his profile coming into view and making Kondo long to reach for him.

He'd decided on the usual approach: to not push and let Hijikata come to him on his own, as neither fancied being fussed over or coddled. But the physical and emotional fatigue observed from earlier were so much more apparent now, that those original intentions were overridden on the sight.

Just how much relentless grief had Hijikata been forced to endure alone, until the situation resulted in…Kondo's mouth twitched… _this_? Unlike himself, Hijikata had no inclination to brood; when he was angry, he yelled and when times were trying, he sought comfort in Kondo's arms.

But in the absence of their warmth and with no place to expel this suffocating negativity, all on his own Hijikata had needed to swallow the overwhelming anguish his decisions (necessary as they were) had spawned. That torment only added to an already cracking foundation—the persistent needling of anxiety which stemmed from Kondo's acceptance of the mission in the first place. And more yet, the judgement he'd endured from peers and subordinates alike had only aggravated the existing complexity of the circumstances.

Above all this, however, loomed the most important precedent: visible weakness at the top was a disease, and putting it on candid display welcomed the spread of uncertainty and instability through the body. So, the perfect storm had mounted and churned a massive opposition, testing Hijikata, _inviting_ him to break oath and destroy everything they'd— _he'd_ —worked so tirelessly to build.

Still, he hadn't fractured.

Not when Nagakura confronted him. Not when even _Saito_ ventured a step into questioning him. Not when his hands were bound by knowing Takeda was at fault for everything, but not having the decisive confession. Not when he heard Kawai despondently asking about the courier for the umpteenth time, day in and day out. Not when he witnessed an innocent man committing seppuku, not when Tani botched his duty, not when the jingling of delivery bells filled the air almost immediately after…

Hijikata had again accepted the full weight of responsibility, of the blame and indignation. He'd once more been so austere in his discipline, so committed, that even now the depth of his emotions remained tightly secured under lock and key.

…And he'd keep it that way, to spare his commander from even a sliver of sharing in it. Kondo's eyes softened. Had Gen-san told him nothing, he would have _known_ nothing.

"Stay here." The words, of course, were devoid of feeling. "I'll light the candles."

It was a request which went ignored.

Kondo set himself in motion the moment Hijikata stepped over the track. He slung forward, a hand sending the door skittering closed after him with a haphazard shove, and his left arm thrust out across Hijikata's chest. Shrouded in darkness, Kondo stepped up behind him, his temple brushing against silk hair and the other arm joining to form a secure embrace.

Neither moved in those seconds immediately following, the softness of their falling breaths accounting for the only sounds in the space.

There was too much to say, and so much that needed to be out in the open: apologies and regret for having to leave, for imposing the crushing weight of Kawai's seppuku upon Hijikata, for impelling him into a role without having the full authority that came with it, for not being present when Hijikata had needed him most. It was all so heavy and all too much—complicated and intimidating to figure out where to begin—but they had to start _somewhere_. And in that second, Kondo decided his first move.

"…Toshi," he whispered at last. "I came back."


	3. Chapter 3

"…Toshi." Like a chant murmured to a deity, the name rolled off his tongue, reverent and sincere. "I came back."

And it felt good, _so_ good, to have the starving space between Kondo's arms filled once more… _damn_ good to feel Hijikata's spine pressed unto his chest. He basked in the privilege of reveling in this closeness, despite the impending difficult conversation that would wreck it all in a fraction of a second.

Because for as competent and practical as the vice commander was, he was as equally affected and moody; _temperamental_ was likely the kindest descriptor, but even that (ironically) would be considered offensive enough to rouse ire and denial. And though Hijikata's emotionalism often threw a wrench into the prospect of long-standing harmony, it was just one part of an entire package—one Kondo wanted complete with all the pieces, beautiful and unsightly alike.

So, he'd embraced him—unexpectedly. To that impulsive gesture, Hijikata's hands at last rose, his palms pressing upon the forearms crossed over him and giving them an almost tentative pat, before his fingertips curled in.

Though the bearings remained difficult to navigate and the ice dangerously thin, it was a promising initial reaction; at the very least, there'd been no outright shut down, and though the ultimate hope had been a verbal response, the physical one was acceptable enough for the meantime. Whatever the case, it seemed the best chance of success would arise from Kondo starting with his own strife and easing into the actual subject of his concern.

He therefore tacked on, "Empty-handed," to his previous statement after the fact, while drawing Hijikata even closer and nuzzling dark locks.

"You expected otherwise." While Hijikata's response erred on snappish, he made no effort to disengage himself from the clutches which had ensnared him. "I said it all from the beginning in one word. _Choshu_."

"I remember. And you know why I had to try, regardless of that."

The huff which followed indicated the opposite. That Hijikata hadn't offered outright contest was indicative of his desire to not venture into uncomfortable waters—a silent but resilient demand to step off if Kondo was even considering such an avenue. Reading that warning loud and clear, he settled to start by dipping his toes into the deep end, instead of taking a full-on plunge.

"Ne…Toshi…" A pause. "The last weeks have been so hard."

"Of course." Hijikata hadn't precisely sounded _frustrated_ , but the air about his response thrummed with apathy and displeasure. "Do you also recall me being against you going in the first place, for exactly that reason?" The coldness contrasted Kondo's warmth, played right into all the classic telltale signs of attempting to conceal inward distress by appearing outwardly impassive. As always, Hijikata was a master of pivot—but Kondo was rather skilled in the art himself, and matched his turn with flawless synchronization.

In truth, if the occasion were different, Kondo would have respected Hijikata's boundaries and penchant for reticence without question; however, after the gravity of what had transpired in his absence, he wasn't about to leave matters of mending to either chance or time. No, on this particular instance, the stakes were too high. He would be sure they braved through the burdens and emerged no worse for wear—together. It was the responsibility he both wanted and readily accepted, from choosing and miraculously _being_ chosen by the ever-elusive Hijikata Toshizo.

For that, Kondo pressed on, inching further and further toward the edge of what he knew was a very dangerous precipice. "…It's been hard on all of us, I mean." A beat, when he felt Hijikata's lungs still, and recognized that this was the tipping point. "Toshi, I'm sorry. I never intended to—"

He'd been right. At last, it was the one push that went too far, and the tension mounted with full force before Kondo could finish what he'd begun to say.

"We knew the situation." The interjection sliced right into the forefront, petulant and stiff—almost formal. "What matters is that you're alive. You fought, you tried, you came back. End of story."

"Aa…" Kondo slowly began. "I did promise you I would."

"So, as long as that's the case, we can just keep going forward." A breath to indicate finality fell from Hijikata then and the harshness about him began to ease; it seemed he believed control over the dialog was now entirely in his grasp, and in turn could be limited to Kondo's experience while avoiding his own. "Forget about what happened in Hiroshima, Kat-chan. That wasn't on you and we're moving onto greater things."

Hijikata's belief was wrong, however.

"I could say the same to you."

Another sarcastic huff followed. "Interesting claim, since I wasn't the one needlessly putting my life on the line."

"No?" Kondo gazed toward the tatami in the distance, bracing himself within the last remnants of peace. His lashes fell and he brushed the strong line of his jaw against Hijikata, inhaling deeply before dropping the match that would detonate into an inferno. Falling, falling, falling… "Just your reputation, then."

And the universe erupted into flames.

Hijikata's spine went rigid. His chest temporarily suspended with the bating of his breath.

"Toshi." Kondo's voice went low and gravelly, calm.

The hands which had clasped to him fell like weights. " _Don't_."

"It wasn't your fault." Ignoring the scoff, Kondo stressed, " _Listen_ to me. Kawai _wasn't_ your _fault_."

"This is _ridiculous_."

Kondo felt an outward shove against his arms as Hijikata attempted to disentangle himself, but remained firm with his hold. "Gen-san told me how you, how _everyone_ , tried so hard. And I know—" While the tiny struggle of push and pull wore on, the words continued to fall forth from his lips, careless like an inebriate spilling sake. Whatever it took, he needed to be heard, needed to excise the blame and soothe the lasting injury. "—I _know_ that last time when I came back from Edo, things were—It was all different back then, Toshi, so—I just want you to know that I know it's—"

Hijikata's face snapped to the side. " _What_ do you know?!" The tug of war, of holding and wanting to break free, grinded to an immediate halt and neither made a further move in or against his own favor. That question cut deep, had Kondo's chest tightening and stole the sentiment right from his tongue. "You don't know anything at all!" Hijikata promptly shut his eyes and he turned away again. "I don't need you, or _anyone_ , to justify my actions when I'm just doing what needs to be done."

Still taken aback from the intensity of the barrage, Kondo's brow furrowed, and certainly for lack of better wording, he stammered, "…I know."

A stiff shake of Hijikata's head complemented the increased abrasion in his tone. "I'm doing what's necessary."

Taking a moment to gather himself, Kondo realized something by the heaviness in that response; the divulgence of feelings he thought he'd have to coax had been imminent all along with minimal provocation, for the impossible amount of tension which Hijikata kept bottled up over weeks had been a single breath away from rupturing this whole time. And while Kondo was willing to catch all of it—to catch _him_ —such awareness had him backpedaling, his tone markedly growing softer to not exacerbate the situation. "Toshi, I know. And I completely support—"

However, even as he went slack in attempt to ease some of the rapidly augmenting pressure, Hijikata only became more rigid and defensive. Impenetrable and not open to debate, he hadn't even allowed Kondo to finish as he continued his own tirade. "What's necessary for the Shinsengumi, for _everyone_."

"Of _course_ , Toshi. I never said—"

And that marked the point of no return, when whatever veneer of possession Kondo thought he had over this exchange met its conclusive demise. Past experience advised him to lay off until Hijikata unwound from his current state, but he'd continued his futile attempts until the limit was reached. Now, the scales tipped completely, the world skewed, and the next thing Kondo realized was that he'd trapped himself in a room with an unleashed tiger.

And worse yet, that tiger was wounded.

Snarling, Hijikata violently thrust his elbows out with enough strength to emancipate himself from Kondo's grasp and staggered forward, the volume of his words increasing as his shoulders began to rise and fall. " _Even if_ that means enforcing seppuku. Even if the man who committed it was innocent, even if we _all_ knew he was covering for someone else."

Whirling on the soles of his socked feet, Hijikata turned back to Kondo. Their vision had adjusted to the dark, the pale blue light from outside faint but present enough to allow them to clearly make out each other's expressions. And Hijikata's eyes, they were rife with a formidable cocktail: of anger, of mortification…of other things he very likely must have preferred to keep to himself.

Still, with a half-hearted shrug, his hands barely lifted near his hips. "Even if it's over fifty ryo."

Kondo was almost breathless. "It's _not_ a small sum."

Once again, the rebuttal went entirely ignored.

"Even if it was for something we tactically needed anyway. Even if Kawai waited day in and day out, asking hour on the hour: _Has the courier arrived? Has the courier not yet come?_ " Standing still again, Hijikata quickly licked his lips and cocked his face before righting it. "Even when our own people came to me, begging and making demands to pardon him…expecting me to do only what our absent commander could."

Kondo shook his head, and though there was plenty he wanted to say, he finally relented and let Hijikata keep going without further counter.

"So Kawai goes through with it. Because he has to. Because those are our rules. And his seppuku is botched because Tani missed. Actually _missed_." A hand cut through the air. "Struck him right in the back, Kat-chan. You should've heard the mewl."

"Toshi," Kondo breathed, slowly approaching him. His hands began to lift, to reach toward the shoulders still laboriously undulating; however, before seeking purchase, they paused as he considered if contact was welcome now. How quickly he'd gone from inciting such a self-assured campaign of good intention to these humble defensive measures of defeat. "Tosh—"

"You say Gen-san explained things to you, but did he actually tell you the worst of it?" Hijikata neither leaned in nor recoiled at Kondo's advance. He did, however, raise his brows, nodding in rapid succession as his demeanor began to disintegrate further. "I don't even mean how the courier finally arrived less than two hours after, no. I'm talking how Kawai's father sent _more_ than what was owed with a loving letter to his now-dead son. Did you hear that part, Kat-chan? How the letter explained that he was on business and that's why there was a delay? How he wrote how proud he was of him for being responsible and bringing honor to their family, how he hoped we—" His voice began to crack and his gaze pulled off to the side.

Hijikata drew a sharp inhale, clearly premature in forcing himself onward and yet he kept right at it. "We, his _great and loyal_ friends, would continue...heh." His eyes closed, then squeezed, and his palms raised to cover them. Fingers were half-clenched in the air and the last words fell raw. "... _taking care_ of him." A breathy laugh followed—coerced, strained, gruff.

At last, Kondo's touch fell upon Hijikata, large warm palms pressing to the cool skin of his elevated biceps and waiting for consent. Hijikata's arms fell and the fierceness within his gaze pierced straight through to Kondo's soul, sizing him up and sending a cascade of ripples along its celestial fabric. And then, it was as if his rationality had suddenly caught up to his emotions—that he realized where he was, and what he'd just divulged and in what way. "Was _that_ the point of all this?!" Exasperation shaded his tone as he lashed out, his pupils shrinking. " _This_ was really what you wanted?"

Hijikata hadn't meant that, and Kondo knew it…knew he was just working through his own feelings and retreating into his own deep-rooted defense mechanisms. Anyone would do so when backed into a corner. Still, even a frivolous insinuation that Kondo would ever actually _want_ to see Hijikata break or suffer in any way caused heaviness to radiate from the center of his chest and filter outward. His breath caught with the ache of his heart, and all he could do was offer a vehement denial.

Kondo set his mouth in a line and adamantly shook his head. He focused on the absolute exhaustion before him—the mental and physical tolls, the hurt in those dark eyes—before slowly, imprudently reaching to Hijikata and trailing the back of his fingers down his cheek with a feather-light touch.

What began as a flinch eased into a waning of the anger and desperation radiating from Hijikata through the tenderness of Kondo's caress; despite that, he remained unmoving and cautious, as if he were looking for ulterior motives even when he knew none existed. A wounded tiger, indeed. But Kondo was aware, from spending over a decade with this man, what he wanted most of all right now. It was just a matter of finding out if he'd allow it.

Upon reaching the soft edge of Hijikata's jaw, his digits fell gently to the nearest shoulder, latching on before starting to coax him forward. Kondo fully expected another outburst, another scathing rant which he believed was more than deserved at this point; however, to his surprise, the action was permitted.

He didn't wait for a change of mind. Kondo's hand slipped to Hijikata's back and hauled him forth to eliminate the space separating them—so strongly and so close that he felt the lips which had just injured him press against his shoulder upon the impact. From there, Kondo wrapped his arms around the smaller frame and held tight with an overwhelming possession, as Hijikata slowly melted into him and hands lifted in kind to take to his haori.

This was the place Kondo had wanted them to get to upon initiating that first embrace…but not like this, or at the expense of discomfort or coercion. He'd wanted Hijikata to talk to him, so he could listen and support; certain that he could at least do that, his movements had started with a particular degree of confidence. Now, however, Kondo remained silent and stared into nothingness across the room.

He was no longer convinced that any of the comfort he was capable of providing would be enough to assuage and heal these kinds of wounds. Because it was just as Hijikata had said: Kondo hadn't known the full extent—and therefore couldn't possibly, genuinely, share in the immeasurable pain of consequence. He hadn't needed to stand helplessly by while an unthinkable situation and its many moving pieces unfurled to leave gashes and scars in its wake.

He couldn't even effectively pick up the damn pieces in the aftermath without making things worse. So he resolved to let his arms do the talking, let his body provide the consolation his lips could never. While the quietude hung heavy and the guilt weighed in deep, Kondo cupped the base of Hijikata's neck and once more leaned his cheek against neatly styled hair.

They stayed this way for a meaningless amount of time, until Kondo finally felt the grasp on his attire loosen, and the fabric subsequently giving way with the slack.

As he righted himself, Hijikata's gaze lifted to meet Kondo's, showing much softer eyes to match his voice. "That's what you didn't know, Kat-chan." He inhaled briefly and gave a tiny shrug. "Or, it's what I didn't want you to."

"Why."

A gentle half-sigh feathered across his sensitive skin. "For all the good this is doing you, or either of us."

Kondo swallowed, feeling his expression contort as he searched the distant dark edge of the room again. "No." Finally, he sought Hijikata's eyes again, the words coming forth barely above a whisper. "Why are you always protecting me like this?"

"How can you ask that? That's my job." Hijikata's chin fell with a strong nod rife with purpose. "It's my sworn duty and honor as your vice commander."

Pulling his mouth taut, Kondo's lashes fell for a moment and he thought to make an argument but let it go.

"Kat-chan, let's get one thing straight. I can't do what you do." There was a slight shake of Hijikata's head. "I couldn't pardon Kawai. It wasn't my role."

"But—"

"And I accept that. Along with the responsibility of enforcing our code, no matter the cost."

"Even when it's your hands always getting dirty," Kondo said, instead of asked.

"No _matter_ the _cost_ ," Hijikata reiterated. He swallowed afterward and peered toward the shoji for a beat. "In the long run, nothing like that matters. As long as we keep going forward." There was another deliberate nod before his eyes found Kondo's again. "As long as you're still commander."

They stared at each other for several moments, and Kondo became of aware of how openly he was wearing his own emotions in that moment.

"Kat-chan…" Hijikata's voice was nearly breathless. "Don't you get it by now? Don't worry about me. All you need to do is keep leading as you are and let me take care of everything else."

What could he say to that? Nothing at all. It was proof that Hijikata had already come to terms with Kawai's fate. Of course, it hurt. Naturally, it wasn't easy. But he'd already justified it and what he needed most now was time to let his feelings settle, especially when surrounded by their own men who also were also in mourning. The best Kondo could do was offer his embrace as he was doing now, a trifle in comparison.

However, there was just one further question that gnawed at him and his brow furrowed further. "Toshi…" Kondo paused to lick his lips, his gaze falling as he considered his words. When his eyes lifted again, they were accompanied with a slight squint. "…What makes you think I would have pardoned Kawai?"

Hijikata huffed out of his nose. "What makes you think you wouldn't have?"

Once again, Kondo found himself speechless.


End file.
